They didn't rush anymore.
For the first time since everything started, there was no one chasing them, no sudden attacks, no reason to look over their shoulders every few seconds.
Just a road.
Then less of a road.
Then none at all.
Shango noticed it when the ground changed under his feet.
"…We left the town," he said.
Onye nkuzi didn't stop walking.
"…You need a place to train. Somewhere you won't hurt anyone by mistake."
"You're going to train me?"
"…Why have you followed along all these whiles?"
Shango smiled.
They kept moving.
The air felt different now.
Cooler.
Cleaner.
The kind that made breathing feel… easier.
Trees started appearing around them.
Not too close.
Not too far.
Just enough to feel like they had stepped somewhere quieter.
No city noise.
No distant engines.
Just leaves moving slightly and the occasional sound of something shifting in the distance.
"…We're staying here?" Shango asked.
"…Yes."
Straight answer.
Finally.
Shango looked around.
No buildings.
No huts.
Nothing.
"…Where exactly?"
Onye nkuzi stopped walking and looked around like he was checking something only he could see.
"…Here is fine."
Shango blinked.
"…That's it?"
"…What more do you need?"
"A roof?" Shango said flatly.
The old man looked at him.
"…Are you made of sugar?"
Shango paused.
"…That's not the point."
"…It is exactly the point."
A small silence followed.
Then Shango shook his head and sighed.
"…So, what kind of lessons will you be giving me, Onye nkuzi?"
He dropped his bag anyway.
At this point, arguing clearly wasn't going to change anything.
Onye nkuzi nodded slightly.
"…Patience."
He sat down.
Just like that.
No ceremony.
No explanation.
Shango stared at him.
"…You're not even going to explain anything?"
"…I already did."
"You didn't."
"…Then listen better."
Shango let out a breath through his nose and sat down too.
Cross-legged.
Facing him.
"…Fine," he said.
"…Let's start simple."
Onye nkuzi said nothing.
"…What am I?" Shango asked.
Silence.
"…How can I tell you what you are when even you don't know?"
Shango squinted his eyes.
"…Then?"
"…Wrong question."
"Then what's the right one?"
"…How do you make your powers yours, that's the key to all your answers."
That got a reaction.
Shango raises his right eyebrow.
"…That's it huh?"
Onye nkuzi looked at him calmly.
"…Easier said than done, boy."
Shango exhaled.
Because he was relieved to begin understanding himself.
"…So," the old man continued,
"…tell me what happens."
"…When what happens?"
"…When it comes out."
Shango leaned back slightly, thinking.
"…It just… happens," he said.
"…I don't really control it."
"…That much is obvious."
"…It bursts out like lightning… like it has a will of its own."
"…At that moment, I feel like letting it all would destroy everything and everyone around me"
"…Like an endless amount of power within me."
"…As expected."
The old man said.
"…It originates from here," Shango said, tapping his stomach lightly.
"…Like pressure."
"…And?"
"…It builds."
"…And?"
"…Then I try to control it."
Onye nkuzi shook his head slightly.
"…There."
"What?"
"…That is where you start failing."
Shango frowned.
"…So I shouldn't control it?"
"…Did I say that?"
"…You just said—"
"…You're forcing it."
Shango paused.
"…Isn't that the same thing?"
"…No."
Simple.
Annoying.
But clear.
The old man leaned forward slightly.
"…Close your eyes."
Shango hesitated for a second.
Then did it.
"…Now," Onye nkuzi continued,
"…don't do anything."
"…That sounds like bad advice."
"…Try it first before complaining."
Shango exhaled slowly.
Then stayed still.
At first, nothing.
Just silence.
Then—
He felt it.
That same thing.
Deep inside.
"…It's there," he said.
"…Of course it is."
"…It's not… acting up."
"…Accept it as yours, because it is."
Shango's brow tightened slightly.
"…Stop being afraid"
"…Okay."
"…What do you see?" the old man asked
"…A ball of wild, raging lightning."
A pause.
"…Embrace it. Let it run its course through you."
Shango did, trusting the words of Onye nkuzi.
"…Weird," he said.
"…What is?"
"…It's not fighting me."
"…It never was."
That made him open his eyes.
"…What do you mean?"
Onye nkuzi looked at him.
"…You were fighting it."
That sat differently.
Shango didn't respond immediately.
Because…
It made sense.
"…So what am I supposed to do?" he asked.
The old man leaned back slightly.
"…Meditate every morning and night, let it circulate."
"…At noon, I will teach you the basics and what I have come to know."
"…Be ready, boy."
"…Sure." Shango replied
"…Tomorrow," Onye nkuzi said,
"…we start properly."
Shango looked around again.
The trees.
The quiet.
The open space.
"…So we're really staying here," he said.
"…Yes."
"…For how long?"
Onye nkuzi closed his eyes slightly.
"..."
Shango stared at him.
Then let out a quiet breath.
"…Alright."
"…Then we will be here for a while."
For the first time since everything began—
Shango didn't feel like he needed to move.
Didn't feel like something was about to happen.
Didn't feel like he was about to lose control.
Just…
Still.
And maybe—
That was exactly what he needed.